The Rockbottom Remainder
by Jennyferr
Summary: Picks up after Bon Voyage. Told from Logan's point of view. About his life after. Reviews? AN: Back and ready to update.
1. Death and blondes

"I'm leaving." The blonde putting on her ridiculously priced shoes stated. Did she think I cared? I didn't even know her name. "Logan did you hear me?" She asked again after I continued to lay motionless. Why should I bother to answer her, I'd never see her again.

"I had a fun time." She breathed annoyingly close to my ear, as she reached to hug me. It made me sick. I kept pretending to be passed out, just counting the minutes until she'd take the hint and leave.

The past two months I've stayed at home and shut myself away from everyone I cared about. I've sunk deeper and deeper into an unbearable depression. I stay intoxicated day and night. And I flip through my black book when I get lonely.

I let go of the best thing that had ever happened to me, that made me a better person. I was unbelievably selfish, and a complete jackass. I ruined everything.

The Blonde left three hours ago, I still haven't gotten out of bed. I hate myself for being so pathetic.

A few minutes passed of me just lying there and then there was a knock at my door. I had no intention of even moving until I heard strange, yet familiar sounds.

Knock, " Shall we serenade him through the door, Colin?" There was a loud bang, " Colin, you struck me!"

I got out of bed and drug myself to the door. I opened it to see a hurt, playful expression on Finn's face, and an annoyed look on Colin's.

"Ah, the awol man himself." Finn greeted me as he let himself in. " This place smells like death…and blondes." He helped himself into my fridge and helped himself to my cereal. He slumped down at my table and started chomping loudly on what wasn't supposed to be a crunchy cereal.

" Hello Logan." Colin greeted me, like a normal person. We did the typical male "clap/handshake/hug" and he entered my apartment. " I've tried calling you…you didn't answer." He sat down at the table next to Finn, a disgusted, yet affectionate look crossed his face as he watched Finn gorging on cereal. " Yeah…I've been busy." Colin, and normally oblivious Finn could both tell I was lying. " Busy with who?" Finn laughed in between mouths full of food. Colin slapped him on the arm for being insensitive, and he spat milk all over my table. He laughed and continued reading the back of the cereal box. "Well, what exactly have you been busy with? You don't have a job anymore, or at least that's what Mitchum told us." Colin directed at me while I gazed out the window, the word Mitchum snapped me back to reality and I walked over to the table and sat. " You talked to Mitchum?" They both kind of nodded, reluctant to admit it. " I bet he had a ton to say about my newfound disappointments." I hinted for information. "Well, he mentioned something along the lines of a meeting with his lawyer about a will…but other than that he said he was worried." Colin truthfully told me.

Mitchum…worried. I had never heard those two words in a sentence together unless it had to deal with the S&P 500. " What exactly did he say?" I was completely engrossed now; the thought of my father worried about me didn't make sense. There was some catch. I was sure. "Well," Colin continued, " he said that he was worried that you turned down your job in San Francisco to stay here, with no opportunity or future. And just lay around your apartment all day, making no money, being completely useless." Colin reluctantly let out. I could tell he felt awful; he stared at the milk on the table afraid and ashamed to look up. " I knew there was a catch," I looked down at Colin, " don't worry." I patted his arm. " I'll figure something out, I don't need Mitchum Huntzberger to make a living." Colin kept looking down. That was unusual for him. He would usually perk up at my sudden optimistic attitude, but now he was still. Like he still had something left to say. " That's not all." Colin kept going, like I knew he would. " He said that if you don't get on a plane to San Francisco in the next month, and take that job, he's taking away your apartment, cars, and you'll live at home, working directly under him." Colin dropped the bomb, a big one at that. "I can't take the job…I turned it down two months ago…they've got someone new by now." I came to a sad realization. That was probably one of the most pathetic moments of my life. I was sitting at my kitchen table in my boxers and t-shirt, with my two best friends, realizing that my life was even worse than the rock bottom it had been twenty minutes ago.


	2. Return of The Mitchum

Yes, I'll admit at the time of my incarceration I was under the influence. Okay, I was shit faced.

The day after I learned of Mitchum's plan from Colin and Finn I decided I would take full advantage of the last month of freedom I had left. I slept with more women, drank more alcohol, lost more bets, and did many other illegal things than I, Logan Huntzberger, had ever done before.

The night of my arrest I was partaking in my last Life or Death Brigade stunt. Yes, I know I had already graduated. But once you're a member, you're always a member…right?

In one of our many alcohol induced card games Finn and I had discussed the idea of a stunt. We flirted with bungee jumping of the roof of any unsuspecting Hartford resident. Possibly stealing various Knick-knacks from Bloomingdale's across the state. But the most appealing idea, and the reason of my arrest, was to cause a citywide blackout.

Now, I should have never listened to Finn when I heard him say, " I saw it in a Simpson's episode." But I had been spending the night with Jim Beam, so my judgment wasn't at it's best.

Finn's master plan was derived from "Papa's Got a Brand New Badge". Apparently there was a heat wave in Springfield and all the apartments were taking advantage of their large air conditioners, which overloaded their nuclear power plant. The Simpson's didn't have an air conditioner and had to come up with a different way of getting cool. So Homer, being the genius that he is, decided to plug in a dancing Santa to make it more like Christmas. The Santa overloaded their power plant and caused a blackout.

Finn, being the genius he is, thought it would be a hilarious idea to do the same thing, but without everyone knowing. The idea that Hartford was not on nuclear power didn't occur to me. Or the fact that residents of my building wouldn't want us sneaking into their apartments and switching on the A.C.

Colin, being the levelheaded drunk, was against the idea from the beginning. After being teased and mocked by Finn he cracked under the pressure and formed a plan. He decided the easiest way to get everyone's air conditioner's on at the same time was to sneak to the control panel on the roof, and turn them on by switch.

Only Colin knew what switches and buttons to flip and press. So Finn and I were merely the lookouts. We were also the ones that lugged Colin's computer (and my scotch) up the stairs to the roof.

I could have seen the plan going smoothly if it weren't for the fact that Finn and I were completely hammered. We staggered up the stairs with Colin walking in front.

" Aren't we there yet?" Whined Finn.

" If you want to get caught," said Colin whipping around towards Finn, stopping us dead in our tracks, and a little off balance, " keep talking. We're in a stairwell that echoes if you hadn't noticed." It was shortly after that Finn dropped the scotch bottle and sent it crashing to the bottom of the stairs. Colin turned around in disbelief.

"Well at least I wasn't talking…" Finn busted out laughing at his own joke.

"Just keep walking, maybe no one noticed." Colin reasoned.

We finally made it to the rooftop and Colin went to work. Finn and I were supposed to be doing our jobs as lookouts, but we were highly engrossed in the view across the street. We had a perfect view of the window the into a sorority common room, the gods smiled upon us that night. Finn took out his flask and we toasted to the beautiful moment.

Colin was at work with the lock on the box when there was a wave of footsteps from the stairwell below. We looked around in panic and tried to find somewhere to hide, but the jig was up. Three security guards emerged from the stairwell and apprehended us on site. The charges were public intoxication, and tampering with private property.

I sat in the drunk tank with the ominous feeling something unpleasant was going to happen. Then, before I knew it, the cell door opened and there stood Mitchum Huntzberger, red-faced and furious. Colin and Finn looked up and bowed their heads, something they learned to do when in the presence of my father.

I was beginning to form words when I was yanked by my arm and out of the cell. I had been in this situation more than once. In the third grade when I broke Shera's priceless African tribal vase, in the eleventh grade when I was yanked out of the backseat of Mitchum's Mercedes (and yanked away from Stephanie), and my sophomore year at Yale; when I was yanked out of Colin and Finn's apartment with a plate of eggs in my hand. So I knew that when I was being yanked by the arm somewhere with my father, to keep my mouth shut. Especially when it involved him bailing me out of a sticky situation.

We were on our way back to the Huntzberger house, and I knew what was coming next. My month of freedom was being cut short. My sentence started now, and there was no way of changing that. I was going to get the responsibility talk. The talk where Mitchum tells me what a disappointment I am. The talk where I'm told I'm the heir to the Huntzberger fortune. The talk where I'm told if I don't shape up, I'll be cut off without a dime.

Yet none of the threats he shoved at me have come true. They've never scared me before either. But tonight things were different with Mitchum. Something in his eyes told me that I'd better do what I'm told, or I really would end up penniless. It could have been the fact that the whole drive home he never said one word. When we got to the house he remained silent also. He retired into the living room with a glass of Brandy and the New Yorker, and didn't say anything either.

I didn't know how to react to that situation. Whenever I fucked up Mitchum's plans there were always immediate repercussions. He always had some way of showing what I did wrong, and some way of punishing me as soon as he could. But this time was different, there was nothing.

So I went to my room and tried to sleep. As hard as I tried it was no use. For once I was actually worried about what my father would do. I was actually scared of the punishment he would give me. I think that was what he wanted though, for me to fear him. I think that was the punishment he liked the most.


	3. Pass The Butter

It had been two full days of silence. Mitchum hadn't said more than "Pass the butter." _Pass the butter?_ I was terrified.

I considered asking him if he was practicing to become Carthusian monk. But I thought; he could play the silent game, and so could I.

But my game was…different. I decided not to change. I wasn't inviting blondes over every night. But I didn't change my drinking habits. I think it pissed my father off more for me to stumble down to dinner drunk, and then not speak to him. It was actually quite pleasing.

But eventually (on the third day) the party ended. Mitchum called me down stairs (I was still drunk) to have a talk about my future. He had decided it was time for me to grow up, for the hundredth time. I had the list of classic repercussions, being cut off and all that. After Mitchum babbled on about that for thirty minutes the alcohol took over and I couldn't stop myself.

"Do you honestly think what you tell me every time I mess up scares me, Mitchum?" I immediately regretted it.

"Well, Logan, I hope that you are scared by it, or at least take it seriously. I am not joking with you this time, son. I hoped you realized that by now, but I guess you haven't."

" No, Dad. I haven't. And you didn't even notice." I couldn't shut up.

"What do you mean I haven't noticed, Logan? You're right under my nose." Mitchum retorted.

"You've never noticed. My whole life I've been messing up right in front of you, and you've only cared when it directly affected you." I didn't regret it anymore.

"That's preposterous, Logan. You're my son."

"Yeah and you're my dad. But that doesn't mean you act like it."

"Stop it, Logan."

"Stop what? Telling the truth? Sorry if I'm messing up all your big plans by opening your eyes. But you've never been there for me, dad. You haven't been here for any of us. You haven't even been here for your own wife."

"Don't tell me what I've done wrong."

"Oh, like I can speak, right? Well maybe if you had been more of a Dad than a playboy, I wouldn't have the right to say these things."

"That's enough."

"Oh, you don't like it when I get to tell you what you're doing wrong. But when it comes to me there are no limits. Isn't that quite the double standard?"

"Logan…you are crossing a fine line here. I would stop right now if I were you."

"But you aren't. Tell me, Mitchum, how does it feel for me to step all over you. Point out your faults…everything you've ever done wrong. It messes with you, doesn't it? Makes you feel bad about yourself…guilty even?"

"Nothing you could say would make me feel guilty. You're just a child."

"Like I was a child the night you can home and my mother was sick on the floor. Drunk because you had another late night. And you laughed in her face. Things like that don't make you feel remotely guilty?" I asked him, just hoping he would yell at me. But he didn't; so I continued.

"And I'm just a child? Then why do you expect me to run the Huntzberger empire?"

He was at a loss for words and just stared at me. So I stared straight back at him. I wasn't cracking under his gaze, and he wasn't cracking under mine. I think it would have gone on all night if Shira hadn't walked in.

"You boys done yet?" I could tell she had been listening to the whole thing, and just now decided to step in. I keep staring at Mitchum.

"Yeah Hun. I'll be up in a minute." Mitchum continued to look at me. "You'll be at the office at nine." He got up and went to bed.

It wasn't long before I did the same. I sat in my room thinking. I couldn't believe the events that just occurred. I had finally stood up to my father and told him he was the whole reason my life was fucked up.

That night led me to do a lot of bold things, including what I did next. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I had never forgotten.

"Logan?"


	4. Doyle Of Derby?

"Hey, Ace." I was beside myself hearing her voice.

"Um…hey."

"I think we covered that one."

"Right…well…right."

"I just wanted to talk to, Rory. I just wanted to see how you were, how things are going for you?"

"I'm…fine…I guess. I'm at a motel right now…we stopped here on our way back from a rally at Boston University…"

"That's good…you sound good."

"Logan…" It felt really good for her to say my name.

"Rory."

"You can't do this, Logan. You can't just call me out of no where and tell me I sound good."

" I think I just did, Ace." She could tell by my tone. She always had a way of telling when I was drunk, or something else was wrong.

"Same old Logan, huh?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Not surprised you couldn't figure that out. It means you're drunk, Logan. You're acting just like you used to. When times get tough for you, you settle it with scotch."

"I'm only acting like I used to because of you."

"You can't blame this on me, Logan."

"Oh I can't? You're the one that crushed me, Rory. You ripped my heart out…and then you stomped on it."

"Just because I didn't want to get married? Because I wasn't ready for that type of commitment yet? Logan, I didn't want to get married because we're still young. I wanted to live out my life before I settled down. And you didn't want to hear it. I was willing to stay together, but you shut me out, without a call or anything."

"What was I supposed to do? Come rushing back to you…you didn't call me either, Rory. You put as much into it as I did."

"Oh my God, Logan. You're just not hearing me. You shut me out. You told me "all or nothing", you gave me that ultimatum and I wasn't ready to choose so I said I couldn't marry you…and you shut me out."

"I didn't shut you out, Rory."

"That's what it seemed like to me. You walked away when I said I can't and you never looked back, you never called."

"I was afraid. I thought you would've moved on by now."

"Well I hope it pleases you to know I haven't, at least like you have. How many girls have you slept with?"

"Rory…"

"Just guess…approximate…estimate. Just give me some sort of figure."

"That's not fair, Rory. You know that's not fair. I deal with things differently than you do. I mean…I didn't mean that."

"No Logan, that's exactly what you meant. That's how you deal with me…right? Sleep with other girls. Same old Logan…"

"That's not fair."

"Look, I have to get up early. So I'll talk to you later. If you aren't too busy with Natalie, or Ashley."

"Rory…"

Then she hung up on me.

I don't think I've ever been involved in a conversation where I was more excited. It felt good for her to treat me like shit again. I missed it. I missed her. I missed how being around her makes me want to be better, to be a different person. I did feel awful though. I felt terrible. Sleeping with different women every night and drinking myself into oblivion wasn't helping anyone, much less myself. I needed a change, and I needed it badly. And it really did please me that she hadn't moved on.

The next morning I was awoken at six by the loathed intercom in my room. I think I had gotten around three hours of sleep.

"Get up, Logan. Come downstairs."

So Mitchum was still talking to me, or at least forcing me to do things I didn't want to. I let another twenty minutes pass before I bothered to get up.

I walked down the last few steps to find Mitchum reading the paper at the table. There was a full spread of things that would normally be delicious for breakfast if you hadn't spent the night throwing up from guilt and scotch.

"Have a seat, Logan." Mitchum demanded me. "I heard you up late last night. On the phone, in the bathroom."

"Well it's good to know I've got someone looking out for me."

Mitchum sighed, " That stops now."

_So we were playing this game again_, "What stops, _Dad_?"

"That, right there. That smartass way you just said dad."

"Sorry, Daddy." I could see the vein about his right eye throbbing.

"I am over this!" he slammed his fist down on the table. "You will respect me Logan, I am your father."

"Yes, Vader." That one was just too easy to pass up.

"Get upstairs! Get dressed, shower, whatever else you need to do. We're leaving for work early."

We took Mitchum's Jag to work. I sat in the backseat far away from him just to piss him off. The drive was about and hour or more, to a town called Derby.

We drove up to a newspaper I had never heard of before. It was called the Derby Daily. Apparently my father was involved in taking over yet another small newspaper that didn't really know what it was doing.

We walked in (actually Mitchum kind of stormed in, I considered humming Darth Vader's death march, but then thought against it), Mitchum acted as if he'd been coming her for years, because he shouted out names and walked around like it was his own newspaper. I always admired that part of my father. The part of him that could immediately take charge and do what was needed.

We entered a conference room with a large round table and chairs all around (one chair at the end separate from the rest, obviously meant for Mitchum).

"Logan, sit." I was directed to sit in a chair Mitchum pointed at without looking.

Mitchum now started a conversation with the pushover editor of the Derby Daily. "This is my son Logan. I want him to work on your staff. I want you to give him whatever you feel is appropriate, take a look at his work, then give me your decision." He handed the shifty looking editor a portfolio of " my work". He skimmed through it nodding; I knew what he was doing. He was "reading" my work; but he had already formed his opinion. He was going to say I was great; he was going to give me whatever position I desired. I spotted him from the moment I walked in. He was just like Doyle.

"Great…great. I think we've got just the position for him, Mr. Huntzberger." He clutched the folders and did the heel bounce thing most people do when they feel pleased with themselves. I laughed out loud.

"Something funny, Logan?" Mitchum asked me.

"Oh no…just thinking of something that happened the other day." I quickly dismissed the slip up.

"Well, I'm going to leave you up to it now," Mitchum looked at me and shook hands with the editor, "Good luck."

Then he left. So I put on my intimidation face; it was my turn. I propped my feet up on the round table, and put my hands behind my head.

"You have impressive work, Mr. Huntzberger."

"That's my father's name, call me Logan," I flashed him a cheesy smile. "Forgive me, I didn't ask. What's your name?"

He sat in the seat next to me and looked intently at me.

"Now that your father is gone, I'm not pussyfooting around with you. You will respect me. You won't treat me like your other editor, Doyle," I looked shocked. "Yes I've spoken to him. I don't play that game. I don't fold to little rich boys living off their daddy's. So," He pushed my feet off the table. "Go to your cubicle, and await your first assignment." He got up and walked out the door.

"What's my assignment?" I shouted.

"Something menial someone else doesn't want."

_So this guy does have balls, this ought to be a challenge. _I thought as I put my feet back up on the table.


	5. Never Give Up, Never Let A McMaster Win

"Huntzberger!" I heard a loud nasally shout coming from behind me but I didn't pick up my head. I was face down in my cubicle sleeping. You would be too if your boss was making you come to work at five in the morning, and leave at ten at night. Not to mention it was almost an hour-long drive to work, and back.

Yes, my new editor had decided to make my life at the Derby Daily a living hell.

Three hours after my editor left the conference room I got my first task, it was definitely something menial no one else wanted.

"Huntzberger." I put down my book and returned to the position I was after my editor left the room, feet up on the table, hands behind my head.

"Yes?" I replied smugly, I wasn't letting this dick get to me. I was an expert at playing these sorts of games.

"So…playing hard ball are we?" Seemed like he knew exactly what I was doing.

"No…just awaiting my first menial assignment." I smiled at him; it was the cheesy smile, again.

"Well wait no longer." He handed me a dry-cleaning stub. I sat forward and took it. Then I looked up at him like he had to be delusional.

"Whom do you want me to give this to?" I asked with all seriousness.

"The dry cleaner, when you take it down to Derby Cleaners and get my clothes. After that you can get lunch. Two people on the staff like onions, no one likes Mayo, and they all want something different. I'll leave it up to you to find out what." He again left the room, leaving me with the feeling I was beneath him. I hated it when people gave me that feeling. There was only one person I ever let give me that feeling and it was Mitchum Huntzberger. Partly because I still felt like a child when he was yelling me at, and it really did make me feel beneath him.

So I reluctantly carried out the demeaning task put before me. And I carried out twenty other menial tasks that week. So that was the reason I was reduced to catching naps in my cubicle. I was getting to bed around eleven thirty, and waking up at three thirty. And honestly, I saw no reason for my to be getting in so early and leaving so late. All I ever did that was semi productive for the paper was to proofread the horoscopes and write the corrections.

I heard another angry Huntzberger shouted from behind me. I picked my head up slowly and there was a string of drool going from my chin to my desk. I turned around to find a very red-faced editor.

"Do you think this is funny?" He held up a page of horoscopes.

"It depends on what it is." I said my eyes barely open, still not ready to wake up.

"Here's what _it_ is, Huntzberger. 'Capricorn: You're going to experience an untimely death do to the fact that you're a jackass who treats your boss's son like a piece of shit and someone is finally going to let you have it. That and the fact you have sexual tension from never getting laid which will cause you to develop dangerously high blood pressure.' That is what 'it' is."

"Well…I find it rather comical yes." I was still having trouble focusing my sleepy eyes.

"Well, I hope Mitchum finds it 'rather comical'." He said in a threatening I'm-going-to-tell-your-father way.

"I'm sure he would, in fact. Why don't I call him. Then I can tell him about the interesting hours you have me working, all the errands I'm running, and the fact that I still haven't gotten anything real to write." I had picked up the phone and looked at him in an I'm-going-to-tell-your-boss-and-get-you-fired way. I could see the expression change from rage to fear. He was bluffing, and I was calling him out.

"There won't be a need for that, Huntzberger. You'll get a piece, I'll fix this," he said gesturing at the newspaper, " and it'll be fine." He stated kind of pleading that I would think his words were some sort of solution to the hell he had put me through.

"Well you see I don't think it will be fine. I want you to give me practical hours; I don't want to be getting home at eleven something and waking up around four anymore. I want to actually have a real part in something here. I don't want to do _your_ errands anymore. I'm a part of this staff I have a salary. I don't get paid to do _your_ work." I said to him very matter-of-factly way and he got the point. That was something I had inherited from Mitchum, the ability to get my point across very well.

So the next couple weeks went very smoothly. I had no trouble from my editor (whose name I finally found out), Darin McMaster, for the next couple of weeks. The name McMaster was no coincidence. He was Doyle's cousin, and he was just as much as a pushover as he was.

I finally got my first real assignment. I was to interview the owners of some of the top inns in Connecticut; The Dragonfly was number one. I was all set to have an interview in three days at The Dragonfly Inn in Stars Hollow with a Ms. Lorelai Victoria Gilmore and a Sookie St. James.

In three days I would be talking to the mother of the woman who refused to marry me almost four months ago. All I knew was that I was going to need more scotch.


	6. You appear like Raindrops

A/N: This is a pretty long chapter, but I couldn't stop writing! I think my writer's block is over (for this story) for now. Yep, I left this at a cliffhanger-ish, don't hate me, it just turned out that way. Reviews are very helpful to the writing process! Keep them coming.

-Jenny

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I sat reclined in my seat facing the towering building before me. Any other day the features of the quaint inn would be beautiful, breathtaking even. Today they towered above me; mocking me, and giving me this ominous feeling that made my stomach churn.

I fixed the unsettling feeling by reaching for the glove compartment and taking out bourbon. It warmed my insides and gave me an edge.

I stalled by taping the steering wheel, and humming a stupid song I heard on the radio earlier. I dropped my hands and sat back in my seat. Eleven thirteen, time to spare. I thought about going out for coffee, but driving anywhere and getting back here by eleven thirty would be impossible. So I sat in the car, mustered up my courage (and other feelings as well), and pushed open the driver-side door.

The steps up to the inn were long, heavy ones. My feet were like lead blocks, willing me to stop moving, yet they kept dragging me to my emanate doom.

I had finally made it to the porch. I wasn't sure if I should knock or not, so I just entered.

The room I stepped in to was beautiful, if not a little eclectic. There was pink (or some shade of the color) wallpaper with a Victorian style print in the reception room. Pictures of a phone, fruits, and vases hung throughout the room. There were flowers and decorative rugs in all the other rooms I could see. I pegged this place as every major franchiser's dream, and something that appeared to come out of Alice In Wonderland.

I was lost in thoughts gazing around the place when a man with a terribly bad French accent interrupted me.

"Can I help you, sir?" Every word he spoke dripped with condescension, yet he held the most polite smile I had ever seen.

"I hope so," I shook his hand, "Logan Huntzberger, here to interview Lorelai Gilmore."

"Ah, the arrogant, butt faced-miscreant, one moment." He left the room and I wasn't that shocked. I figured Lorelai would've talked about me to everyone she knew. After all, I was the one who "broke her daughter's heart", or at least I'm sure that's how she saw it, and told it.

"Lorelai will see you in the living room." He went back to his desk and acted as if I was just one of pictures hanging on the wall.

"Should I assume that's over here?" I asked pointing to the room on the right.

"Yes…whatever." He replied sorting through a pile of mail.

So I went ahead and proceeded to the assumed living area. I sat on the striped couch and examined the various knickknacks around the room. I was looking at the seemingly out of place jukebox in the corner when I heard the clacking of heels on hardwood floor. I sat straight and fixed my tie. I felt unbelievably nervous, and my stomach wouldn't stop churning.

"Logan." She walked into the room, and my stomach once again churned. I stood up and shook her hand. She sat down on the seat across from me.

"Long time no see." I replied. She kind of nodded her head in a polite response, and smiled. Her blue eyes were making my heartache.

I swallowed and took out my notepad, and tape recorder.

"Shall we begin with the questions?" I asked, looking for permission to officially begin. She once again nodded in reply.

"Why did you decide to get into the inn business? Why not hotels, or Bed and Breakfasts?"

"I first thought about the idea of owning, or at least managing, an inn when I was staying at The Independence Inn. I had come there in search of a job after I had my first daughter, Rory," My heart caught in my throat, " and I was welcomed. I grew up in a powerful household, where big corporations and businesses were respected, and I didn't necessarily want that. I always thought the idea of an inn was more…romantic." She paused, "Plus, B&B's freak me out." She chuckled, I made a feebly attempt to laugh as well, but my throat was dry and it came out as more of a wheeze. I swallowed and began again.

"So what is your favorite part of owning your own inn?" She scrunched her face in thought and crossed her legs.

"Well, probably the part where I get to fire people!" she smiled, "Just kidding. I think it would be the freedom. I like the fact that when I screw up there's no one here to yell at me for making the mistake, well unless you count Michel." She gestured towards the front desk, and the snotty Frenchman. She laughed a little. " I like that I can make my own hours, and that I can plan my days the way I want to."

"Do you have a lot of weird incidences occur?"

"Well nothing like the Poltergeist, but we have had towel thieves before. That didn't end too well. We normally just have weddings, and regular guests."

"So, what is the typical age group for couples getting married?" I said bitterly.

"Well…" she looked at her shoes, then up at me. " We get all kinds of ages, really. Some young, some old, and some in between."

"So do you find parents supportive of young marriages?" I said ever more bitter.

"It depends on the people." She said dryly.

"What are your opinions about the matter?"

"I really don't see how this is relevant, Logan."

"I don't know why it isn't. I mean; after all, it is the reason I'm sitting here now." I said with the most bitterness I had ever used in my life. I had all this hate bent up and she was there; she was relevant. So I was taking it out on her. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted.

Then someone I had never met, and usually wouldn't, entered in the room.

"Uh, I made some coffee, and some scones." She was a very chipper person, " If you don't like scones, Logan, I made some donuts…uh eggs, and bacon." She laughed, for no reason really, well other than she was nervous and it was showing.

"Thank you, Sookie." Lorelai said picking up her coffee and drinking.

"Yes, thank you, Sookie. Scones are fine." So this was the other owner.

"Okay," She nervously laughed again, "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything else." She left walking backwards while she looked at us; she bumped into someone carrying a tray that spilled. By looking at Lorelai I could tell this wasn't uncommon.

Lorelai looked down at the floor and back at me.

"So where were we?" She remarked very thrilled to continue, and kind of threw her hand in the air.

"Well I believe I was trying to get out of you what you felt about young marriages. You said it wasn't relevant, and I informed you it was because it was the reason I'm sitting here." I politely replied taking a sip of the coffee Sookie had placed on the table.

"Why is that the reason you're sitting here? It's not like anyone forced you-" She cut herself off.

"Forced me to what? Propose to someone I love? Want to spend the rest of my life with someone who made me feel better about every shitty thing that had ever happened to me until now?"

"I was going to say come here, but sure, fine. Let's start with that. Why did you do it Logan? And in front of a room full of people that were gawking at her, expecting an answer."

"Because I love her, Lorelai. Damn it. Just because you can't be happy and actually hold someone down doesn't mean she can't." I spat that at her. I had gone to far, but I wasn't taking it back. That would only make me seem weak.

She was taking deep breaths. I could tell because her chest was heaving up and down. Her nostrils were flared, and her eyes wide. I had no idea what she was thinking at the moment, but she obviously wasn't pleased with me.

She looked down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear; " I hope you have enough for your article there, because I really don't feel like doing this anymore."

I let a couple of moments pass before I continued to pursue the issue.

"I just don't know why you would have told Rory not to marry me." My words hung in the air, as she was silent. I didn't think she was going to answer me, but she finally did.

"I never told her not to marry you." She admitted, and shrugged at the same time. " I told her to do what she felt was right, and she did. You just didn't agree with it."

"Because it wasn't right, it wasn't the way things should have been. We should get married. We shouldn't spend time apart across the country "dating"; I didn't want that. I wanted to be with her. I never wanted to have to wake up with her not next to me."

"Well as insightful as that is, you shouldn't have done it the way you did."

"Oh, because you're the relationship expert." Bitterness, and resentment was piling up again.

"Well I think that in my thirty-nine years of existence; and one kid, I've learned something."

"Did," I put my head down in my hand. I was being openly weak, a first for me to anyone besides Honor. I looked back up at her. "Did she at least tell you why?"

Lorelai sighed. "She wasn't ready, Logan."

"Yeah, I keep hearing that. But how was I supposed to know that time apart would lead to her being ready? How was I supposed to know she was just saying that because she really didn't want to be with me, at all?"

Lorelai's eyes shined with compassion, I could tell she felt sorry for me. I had been such an ass, like usual. I pushed her away with bitterness, without really giving her a chance to defend herself. _Ass_.

"Logan, if you had just listened to her…things could have turned out differently. You were so set on things being this way; the avocado tree, California, that paper. She wanted to do things her way. You know Rory, Logan. You know she doesn't want to settle on anything. Living in California and working at that paper would have been settling for her."

Her words cut like a blunt blade. They cut straight into my heart. I was bleeding out right in front of her and all she could do was just look sorry for me.

That was the last mentioned of what happened between Rory and me. After Lorelai's last statement I gathered myself together and took a deep breath. I sat back up and continued with the questions.

Afterwards I needed to drive somewhere. I couldn't take being in my own skin anymore. I needed to go somewhere I could just sit and think.

I drove, and I didn't really know where I was going. I just shut my GPS off and drove on a whim.

I ended up in Oakville at some bar called Ordinary Joe's. I walked in and sat at a table. The lighting was dim and the room smokey. There was a singer on stage with a guitar and a melancholy voice. This was the place I needed to be at the moment, it felt right.

A waiter came over and I ordered a round of Bulldog gin. I sat there in the corner of the room watching everyone else watching the entertainer when my breath caught in my throat.

The waiter came over to the table and tried to get my attention. He finally slammed my drink on the table sloshing it on the wooden surface when I snapped back to reality.

"Sir!" He demanded impatiently.

I looked up at him, "Yes?" I inquired.

"I told you the lady at table six asked me to see if you would come over there." I counted the tables to where she was sitting. _Six! She was sitting at table six! And she had actually asked for me to come over._

I quickly left the flustered waiter and my gin behind. I walked up to her table, trying not to get in the way of the stage, but that was inevitable. People started to hiss, and make snide comments as I blocked their views but I didn't care. She had asked to see me, and that's all that mattered.

I sat down at her table and smiled. She looked perplexed as if she had no idea that I was at the same bar, let alone the same state as her.

"Hi." I keep smiling, like an idiot.

"Um…hi."

"I think we covered that, Ace."

"Logan?"

"Don't acted shocked, Rory." I teased at her, _why was she confused when she asked me over here?_

"About what…seeing you? That is a little shocking, I haven't seen you in three months." She stated obviously, and still clueless as to what I came over here.

"Okay. But why are you shocked to see me when you asked the waiter to send me over here?" I pointed out to her; her face became even more confused.

"I…asked the waiter to send you over here? Logan, what are you talking about?" She looked at me like I was an idiot.

"The waiter came over to my table and told me that you said…" About the time I got to the word said I heard fits of laughter coming from behind me. I turned in my seat to see the owners of the laughter, an Australian and a seemingly normal guy, standing at the bar, who quickly went back to drinking and talking when I looked.

I clenched my teeth and exhaled harshly.

_Jackasses! Idiots!_

I turned back around to Rory. Looked down at the table then up at her.

"I'm going over there to sort this out. Please…just," It felt so weird for me to beg her to stay in one place so I might have a chance of talking to her. I closed my both in concentration as I was trying to come up with words that didn't so sound so pathetic. "Please stay here?"

She pursued her lips like she does when she's not to thrilled about something, or when she's going to cry. She shrugged her shoulders and threw up her hand in a way that told me she didn't care. I got up from the table and walked over to the bar.

As I got closer to Colin and Finn I saw panic in Finn's eyes. It looked like he was trying to run away and Colin grabbed him by his shirt. He was saying something that made Finn swallow. After a few seconds he replied with a hysterical look on his face and Colin slapped him.

"It was for your own good." Colin told Finn letting him go.

Am I missing something, boys?" I addressed them as I walked up, flashing them my cheesy smile. I could see Finn quivering and Colin wipe his face to a blank slate. No matter how many times Colin did this, I could always tell he was hiding something. Though this time I knew what it was.

"No, Logan. I was just telling Finn that when the blonde he was pursuing turned him down it was for his own good." He told me this with his "Mr. McRae" face. It was the one he used when he talked to his father. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing; it just meant he was trying to keep something from me.

"Which blonde?" I asked trying to disprove their story and get to the reason why they got the waiter to send me that message.

"You don't know her." Colin told me.

"Really…are you sure, Colin? Because I think I've gotten to know my fair share of blondes, maybe if you told me her name it would ring a bell…"

"Karen."

"Angela."

"Oh, Karen Angela. Nope…no, doesn't ring a bell. You know, it kind of sounds…made up." Finn was kind of shocked and Colin looked as if he couldn't believe his plan was foiled. "Why don't you just tell me why you got the waiter to come over and tell me that Rory wanted me?"

"We thought it'd be funny." Colin hit Finn on the chest. That was obviously not what Colin wanted said.

"We thought," he looked at Finn, " that we're sick of seeing you depressed all the time. We thought there's Rory…there's Logan, why aren't those two beautiful kids together?"

"You're jackasses." I replied to Colin's heartwarming speech.

"You love us." Finn told me; obviously he regained his composure and was back to his old self.

"I don't even know what to say to her." I was watching her sit alone at her table.

Finn slapped my shoulder and tore my gaze away from her. "Tell her you love her, mate."

"It's not that easy, Finn." I went back to looking at her, and she turned her head to look in my direction. I quickly averted my gaze back to Finn.

"Just go talk to her." Colin sensibly told me. We were all looking at her now. She had turned back to the singer on stage, and pretended none of us existed.

I took Colin's advice and willed myself to cross the room, and while I did she looked at me, pursued her lips, stared at something off to her right, and then shook her head. I didn't take that as a good sign, but I went ahead and sat down across from her.

"Of all the gin joints." She said looking at me with pursued lips and crossed arms. I knew she was talking about Casablanca because she had forced me to watch it more times than I cared for.

" I didn't know you were going to be here, Rory."

"So."

"So?"

"What. Why are you here then?"

"Because…you can't honestly expect me to stay away from you." She kept her stance; arms crossed, pursued lips.

"I can't? I mean you only told me that you didn't want to be with me if I wouldn't marry you."

"I never said that."

"When I said I would still be in a relationship with you, I just didn't want to get married, you told me all or nothing. So I said I can't. And you said goodbye. How does that not imply you don't want to be with me?"

"I just didn't want to not be with you."

"So, you didn't want to not be with me, so you broke up with me? It's good to know that your Yale education resulted in that kind of reasoning."

"I just couldn't take another long distance relationship with you, Rory." The more I tried argued with her the more I doubted myself and thought she was right for being so pissed at me.

"So you gave up completely. That's just so typical of you, Logan." She looked away again, arms still crossed.

"I miss you, Rory."

She kept looking at the stage. I know she was fighting her true feelings because she was too proud to admit she missed me.

"Talk to me, Rory. Don't shut me out."

She let me sweat it out for a couple of minutes and then told me what I'd been waiting for, without ever looking at me.

"I miss you too, Logan."


	7. And Leave Like You Sink Through

I swirled my drink, and the ice clinked against the side of the glass. She looked at me annoyed. I set the glass down.

"So, how's life on the campaign trail?" I made an attempt at casual conversation, but she showed no effort.

"Fine." She avoided looking at me.

"How are you?" I said with genuine concern.

"Fine." She said with genuine annoyance.

"Really, Rory? Because I feel like shit."

"Well, I feel fine." She still looked away, but this time she shrugged as if she had no idea why I would feel that way.

"Rory, stop pretending. You already told me you miss me, don't tell me you're fine without me."

"I don't need you to be happy." It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

"Then why are you still here?"

"I was just asking myself the same thing." She stood and picked up her things. "Excuse me."  
I sighed and ordered another round. She left me with more questions than ever. _How could she just say she missed then just leave and me?_ She made no sense. 

Finn came up and hugged me, "I saw the whole bloody thing, man. Massacre."

"I think what Finn means is he's sorry." Colin said, sitting down in Rory's seat.

"Yes, mate. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

"She didn't die." Colin scolded him.

"It's fine you guys, don't worry about it." I said, waving it off.

"Logan, we know you're upset, don't try and hide it." Colin told me.

"I'm fine." I persisted.

"You don't have to hurt anymore." Finn said putting his hand on mine.

I pulled away. "Look, if all you guys are going to do is try and "cheer me up" then I'm leaving."

"No, no. We came to drink!" Proclaimed Colin as he ordered another round.

"Drink is why we came!" Shouted Finn, he received several aggravated looks from the people around him. He ordered another round of the drink he had, and we began our mission to out drink each other.

"So, how's that paper treating you?" Colin asked.

"Pretty fair now. I had a chat with the editor." I smirked.

"Ruffed him up a bit, did you?" Finn chimed in as he scoped the scene around him.

"Nah," I said swallowing gin. "Just showed him I don't shit around."

"Oh ho ho!" Colin and Finn laughed, elbowing each other at my normally unfunny joke. But their intoxication made it hilarious.

For the rest of the night, till around twelve, we drank ourselves into fits of laughter, and states of oblivion. It was the time that Finn threw his glass at the singer on stage that got us in trouble. It wasn't long after that that we were escorted out of the bar.

"How are we going to get home?" Colin said, as the reality of the situation was making him think clearly.

"You guys take a cab…I have my car." I slurred.

"You're in no shape to drive." Colin tried reasoning with me.

"I won't…I'll call someone…" I made up just trying to get rid of the two.

"Alright…call us when you get home, just to make sure you get there okay." Colin demanded.

"Colin…buddy, don't worry…I'll be fine!" I convinced him, I opened the door of the cab that pulled up and pushed him inside. I sat down on the curb and pulled out my phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey…"

"Logan…?"

"Yes, ma lady?"

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe a little…ma lady?" I added laughing.

"Where are you?"

"Outside the bar, on the curb…where are you?" I said in a deep throaty voice.

"Turning around…stay where you are." She hung up.

I sat on the curb for twenty minutes before her Prius drove up. She got out of the car and walked up to me hands on hips.

"What're you doing?" I looked up at her and laughed.

"Sitting...ma-"

"If you finish that sentence with ma lady, Logan, I swear to God, I will walk away and leave you here." She sighed, "Now why are you on the curb?"

"Because they didn't like it when Finn threw a glass at the singer."

"Are you sure that's all?"

"Maybe…we were a little, overly drunk."

"Maybe?" She put my arm around her shoulder and helped me into the passenger's seat.

"Buckle your seat belt."

"Yes, ma'am." I said as I obeyed.

I surveyed her as she pulled away from the curb. She had a stern face and sat firmly at ten and two. I couldn't help but wonder why she was so mad at me, and I could feel the words forming on my lips.

"Why are you so angry, Rory?" I asked her from my slumped position in the passenger's seat.

"I don't know," She remarked sarcastically making a left turn, "maybe it has something to do with the way you think you can come back into my life like nothing ever happened."

"I've apologized, Rory. You can't stay mad at me forever…it's not the way this works…" I slurred, closing my eyes.

"How is it supposed to work then?" She asked, curious now.

"You're supposed to forgive me…and we'll get back together, and get married…"

"Seems like you given this a lot of thought."

"It's all I think about…"

She never replied and it was a silent drive back to my apartment. We pulled up into the parking garage and she got out.

"Rory, you can't park here." I called to her still inside the car. "It says "Guest" parking. You don't like me. You can't be my guest if you don't like me." She opened the passenger door and went to unbuckle my seat belt. I grabbed her hand.

"You can't touch me if you don't like me either…do you think I'm easy?" She looked at me in a way that told me she was not in a pleasant mood. I dropped her hand and she unbuckled my seatbelt. She pulled me out of the car, and I stumbled trying to regain my balance. She slipped my arm around her shoulder again and started leading me to my apartment.

When we got to my door she dug for my keys in my pocket, and opened it. She brought me to my bed, laid me down, and took off my shoes.

"Rory?" I said as she started into another room. She pulled back, and rested her hand on the doorway. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"Someone has to." She frowned, and headed into the other room. She came back with water and an asprin. "So…I think you can take it from here."

"Don't go…" I moaned.

"Logan…" She started, but I cut her off.

"Don't leave me, Rory. I know I shouldn't have done what I did and I'm sorry about it…I really am. But you can't leave me…"

"I think it's up to me, Logan."

"Then choose to stay." I pleaded with her.

"I have work…"

"Stay the night."

"I can't do that, Logan."

"Why not?"

"Because, Logan. We aren't in a relationship anymore. I'm not going to do something meaningless with you that I would regret."

"Meaningless…?"

"Logan, I should go."

"Yeah…sorry to be a burden." I rolled over and heard her leave the room. I laid in the same position until I eventually fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning to harsh light and a splitting headache. I really wished I had taken the asprin Rory left for me, but I had forgotten about it in the anger over her not staying the night.

I pulled myself up and staggered to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth to get the taste of stale alcohol out of my mouth, and took a shower. I got dressed and headed to the kitchen for dinner, but noticed a note on my coffee table.

"Logan-

If you're sober in the morning, call me. We should talk about things."


	8. Start Everything Over, Again

A/N: HA! Writer's block over! (For now) This chapter is done! I'm excited, this took forever for me to finish…so I better get some good reviews. And I don't mean sugarcoated ones. Give me something honest! Please.

Well, I hope this turns out like you like. Don't expect things to turn out a certain way though, I always have a few tricks up my sleeve. 

I picked up the phone, and sunk into the couch. The shades were drawn, like they had been for the past months, and I dialed her number.

"So I see you got the note." She answered.

"Yeah…I did. Where are you?" There was a considerable amount of background noise wherever she happened to be.

"On the campaign trail…so anyways, I assume you called because you read the note, and want to talk."

"You would assume correctly."

"Well…I'm on the road for the rest of the day. I've got to go to this rally, then travel back to the hotel I stayed in last night, but I was thinking when I got back we could talk…face-to-face."

"Alright…" I sighed, my head was pounding and I didn't want to have to wait to see her.

"You didn't take the asprin did you?" She knew me too well.

"No."

"Figures…" I could picture her eyes rolling. "Well, I need to go, I have to prepare for the rally. I'll call you when I get in. Bye."

"Bye." I seemed to say to the air, as she had already hung up. I rubbed my eyes, and tossed the phone on the couch, which I sunk deeper into.

I didn't want to wait and see her all day. I would have gotten up and found out where she was, just so we could finally talk, if the room would've stopped spinning. I would have continued my Saturday as normal, or at least what had become normal, but I couldn't get shake this nauseous feeling. All I could muster the strength to do was lie down. I was weak; I had never had a hangover as terrible as this. I couldn't manage anything other than sleep at that point.

I awoke to pitch black and a loud ringing in my ears. I glanced a clock sitting adjacent to me that stated it was eight. I sat up realizing what the loud ringing was. I answered the phone to a thoroughly pissed of caller.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been calling for the past hour."

"I've just been sleeping…sorry."

"Well, I figured we could meet somewhere…"  
"How about here."

"Here as in?"

"As in my apartment."

She was silent for a while. I could tell the gears were turning in her head as she created a mental pro/con list. A large con was probably that we'd be alone. As for the pros, that was a complete mystery.

"I…I guess." She replied, sighing. "Just give me a little bit to get there." She hung up and I made no effort to move quickly. I still felt nauseous.

I came to, to pounding on the door. Getting up from the couch I opened the door.

"Sleeping?" She asked, slightly annoyed.

"Yeah…" I pulled back the door and let her in. This was the first time I had really taken her in, at least sober. She still had bangs, but shorter hair. She wore the same kind of modest sweater, with the same kind of jeans. She hadn't changed much.

She stood, oddly out of place in the room. It probably had to do with her coat still being on, and the fact she looked uncomfortable. Or maybe the fact the place was a wreck and she was so well keep together.

"So, uh…" I gestured towards the couch as I flipped on a light, shocking my nocturnal eyes.

She sat down, moving aside blankets. I sat in the chair next to the couch. She looked around the apartment, probably taking in its unkempt features.

"So, can I get you anything?" I offered, only because I couldn't think of anything to say. I was really hoping she didn't accept because the only thing I probably had to give was Vodka.

"No thanks." She said nervously dropping her hands on her legs.

"So…you want to talk?" I asked, after more of her studying the apartment.

"That I do." She sighed, and shifted her position. "Look Logan…I…I need closure. I need to know that things are done between us."

"That's…" I said closing my eyes. "That's what you came here for, Rory…closure?"

"Yeah…I mean, we didn't officially…you just left."

"You told me no! What was I supposed to do?" This was unbelievable.

"You could've stayed with me, Logan. Not run off. That is not you. You're the guy who bought coffee carts, and flowers, and…talked to my mother. Why this time did you leave? And you didn't even leave, you stayed _here_." She said looking around my pathetic excuse for an apartment.

"It was different."

"How?"

"Because…" I paused. "I just didn't want to have to go through that again."

She stared at the floor.

"We could've made it work."

"How…? I mean, I thought about this. I didn't just blow you off with reckless abandon. I couldn't find a solution…"

"When you love someone you make it work."

"There wouldn't have been…we wouldn't have been able to see each other, or…do the things that hold a relationship together."

"I know that. But we could have made it work."

"No. We couldn't."

"You don't know that."

"And you don't know that we could have. Tell me you wouldn't have met someone else. Tell me you wouldn't have resented me because you would be tied down."

"I wouldn't." She stared at me in disbelief. I knew it sounded crazy before I even said it, but that was part of the reason I felt things wouldn't have worked. "I loved you, I could've never felt like that."

"Yeah, that's easy to say now, when you aren't presented with the option."

"Because you know all about being presented with 'options'."

"Don't bring that up."

"You started the subject."

"I'm not doing this, you came to talk, not to fight."

"Well, I don't what to you want to talk about…I mean, I think we've pretty much exhausted the subject."

"We just started."

She sighed, sweeping the bangs out of her eyes.

"Fine, then I'll go. I want to be with you, Rory."

The bangs fell back into place.

"I don't want distance. I want to date you, and I want to make it work this time."

She looked flustered, but kind of like she half expected it. "You said it couldn't work."

"That was…I'm not in California. There isn't much distance. I have a job, under Mitchum, but it's a job nonetheless. We could try…if you wanted to." It was more of a question, than a statement. She was silent.

She studied my face, taking a hard look at me.

"You're serious?"

"As a heart attack." I held my breath.

"We couldn't start where we left off, you know?"

"Wouldn't expect us to."

She paused.

"You're really serious about this?"

"Really." I kept holding my breath, yes or no, I couldn't tell at this point.

"Okay." She said.

"Okay?" _Apparently it was a yes…or so it seemed. _

"Yes, okay."

"No coffee carts?"

"No coffee carts."

"No flowers, or messages, or letters from your mother?"

"No…although the occasional bouquet would be nice." She joked.

"So, you're serious."

"Yes, Logan."

"So…we're both serious?"

"I think we've established that now."

"This isn't some crazy dream…I'm not going to wake up in a cold sweat screaming your name?"

"I could pinch you if you like?"

I looked at her shaking my head, smiling.

"What?" She asked.

"Its for real."

I felt happy. The nauseous feeling, the head pounding had faded. Maybe they were just side effects of being without her, but they were gone now. I had a fresh beginning, and a chance to start over with someone I loved.


	9. The Lost Weekend

A/N: Okay here's the next chapter! Don't hate me; I added twists to the storyline. Now I'm probably going to start a couple new fics soon, so be on the lookout! Enjoy.

And review!

"Hi…uh…I'm Logan, and I'm an alcoholic." I sat quickly back in my seat, murmurs of "Hi, Logan" echoed around the room and I stared at my shoes.

I found this whole concept ridiculous. I was standing in a room with a group of people who have a "problem" that I don't. I was wasting everyone's time by being there.

"Great…welcome, Logan. Now, has everyone been introduced…?" The group leader, whose nametag said Darren, waited for raised hands, there were none. "Great… now, today we'll be starting on step one, "Admitting that we were powerless over alcohol, and that our lives had become unmanageable." I think its safe to say you all feel this way…that would be why you are here, am I correct?" I listened to him drone on as several people nodded, and others avoided everyone else's glance. I couldn't help but think this way all nonsense. I didn't think that alcohol was making my life unmanageable or that I was "powerless"; I just liked to drink, there's nothing wrong with that.

"Now, each one of the twelve steps comes with it's own little tradition. Step one's is, "Our common welfare should come first; personal recovery depends upon A.A. unity." That is our main focus in these meeting, your welfare, and personal recovery. You are here to help yourself, and in doing that help the others around you." He scanned the room, taking in all the suckers hanging on his every word. "Each on of you," there were only about fifteen of us, "will be given a sponsor. Your sponsor's mission is to guide you through the twelve steps…to help you get through and to most importantly, not relapse."

_Great_, I thought, _someone else to jump down my back._

"After today's meeting you will meet your sponsor for a snacks, there'll be cookies and _Hawaiian_ punch." He laughed at his joke; no one else did. He cleared his throat and continued, " Now, let's get to step one. Admitting that we were powerless over alcohol, and that our lives had become unmanageable. I think a good way for us to start would be to write down one experience that really shows how alcohol has made things unmanageable for you, put it in this box," he held up a shoebox, "and we'll read them out loud."

He passed out pens and papers for everyone to "share" their experiences, and I stared at the paper. I thought about the past couple months, the extents I had gone to, to fill Rory's void in my life. All the drinking and one-night stands, all the stupid pranks- the stupid pranks! I had something there.

I quickly wrote about the time Colin, Finn, and I tried to cause a citywide blackout and got arrested. I was sure there were plenty of other times, maybe even times that had developed into much worse situations, but I really just wanted to get it over with.

I tossed my paper in the box and crossed my arms, watching everyone else thinking and writing down their experiences.

It was about eight minutes of mind-numbing boredom before everyone had finally finished writing, and put their papers in the box. Darren shook the box theatrically and chose a paper.

He unfolded it and read, "The time I remember my drinking becoming the most unmanageable was during my father's funeral. I never had a great relationship with him, and we hadn't ended things on a good note before he was in an accident. I drank heavily and was drunk at his funeral. I went to make a speech in front of hundreds of family members, and all his respected colleagues, and all his friends, and I insulted him. I called him a heartless bastard, and I ended up kicking his casket. This was definitely not one of my finer moments, and is a perfect example of how alcohol used to make my life unmanageable." He refolded the note, "Signed Jacob, one of our sponsors. How about a hand for Jacob, huh?" Darren persuaded the room to clap for one of the sponsors leaning against the wall. Jacob nodded his head in humility and looked at the floor. "Now, let's move on to another letter." He once again pulled out a sheet and unfolded it, "One night my friends and I decided to pull a prank, we were drunk, and got arrested." He sighed, "Signed Logan Huntzberger." He folded the letter and set it on a table. "This is the classic example of someone who isn't willing to go through with treatment, and someone who isn't willing to open up to their alcoholism." I rolled my eyes, and he pointed at me. "See that right there? That is what I'm talking about. You don't want to listen and accept the fact that you have a problem."

"Oh no, I accept I have a problem."

"Well that's very good, see we've just made progress-" I cut off his monologue.

"But it's with you."

Several people laughed, I could see Jacob shaking his head fondly, as if he too had the same attitude.

"I'm very sorry you feel that way. I am only want to help you. Now…" He continued to read more letters and more people chimed in and "helped" one another. I remained silent and waited for the snack break, and the time I could leave.

I approached the table with the cookies and punch, and the sheets that told you who your sponsor was. I skimmed to the h's and found out that I was paired with Jacob, the man who bashed his father at his funeral, and I didn't find this surprising. After all, I related to his story, and Darren mentioned pairing us based on what family and other sources had said.

I found Jacob talking to some of the other sponsors and I shook his hand. "So I guess you're my sponsors, Logan Huntzberger."

"Ah, that I am. Jacob Runnels. So…I'm not really sure what we do now…"

"Me neither, I'm new at the AA thing…"

"Yeah, I'm new at the sponsor thing…"

"Do we talk, or something…" I suggested.

"I think we're just supposed to be introduced for today…save the heavy stuff for later…give me a chance to prepare." We both laughed, awkwardly.

"Well, I guess I'll see you next Sunday then."

"Alright, next Sunday."

Walking through the door I could hear fierce typing and use of the backspace key. Hanging my coat I walked inside.

"Hey," the typing stopped, "how was the meeting?"

"Fine." I muttered going to my room to take off my shoes and settle in for the night.

"So what happened?"

I came from the room to go to the kitchen to instinctively pour myself a drink, of something that was no longer there. I stopped and turned to sit on the couch.

I sighed, "People talked, people listened…we got assigned sponsors…" I turned on the TV avoiding her studying my face.

"Well…did you make friends?" She asked me helplessly. I could tell she felt awkward knowing that this was something I hated, and something I protested strongly against. And something I had only done per her request.

"Rory…" I sighed. "This is AA, not kindergarten. I'm not there to make friends, I'm there to get "help"."

"Sorry…"

"No, don't apologize. Look, I've got dinner at my parents in a little bit, I should shower and I know you have to finish that article, so we'll talk later…okay?"

"Yeah…" She trailed off as I hugged her.

I knew I was being unfair, and I knew I was being an ass. But I felt resentful and bitter towards her again. I had finally gotten her back and now she was forcing me into something I felt I didn't need. I had once again sabotaged things with the person I loved, and that led to me hating myself again.

But all my thoughts kept coming back to the empty feeling in my life right. The lack of the thing that comforted me, and made me feel whole.

I turned on the water, closing the door to my bathroom. I slipped open my window to pull up the bottle of Vodka I had so cleverly tied to a string.


	10. Gangsters And Eggrolls

Steam and the sound of running water filled the room. Unscrewing the cap I prepared myself for a drink. Just one…and I'd put the bottle back and continue what I was doing.

Then the door shook, I threw the window back up and hastily and retied the string. I dropped the bottle out of the window, sending it crashing to the street.

"Logan…I left my book in there…can you hand it to me?"

Panicked, I searched the room for her book…finally finding it I cracked the door and handed it to her.

"What're you doing?" she asked.

"Well, the water's running…I'm half naked…all signs point to taking a shower…"

"Yeah, but you look nervous."

"You just pounded on the door, it scared me."

"Oh..." She replied, but I could tell she still thought I was up to something…though I couldn't blame her. I had just tried to down a bottle of Vodka.

She closed the door, and I re-locked it.

Looking down on the street I could see the full bottle, wasted and spewed on the across the sidewalk…apparently my haste had lead to a faulty knot.

I shut the window, telling myself that it was probably for the best. I took my shower and dressed for dinner, which was a new agreement with my parents. A suggestion of Shira's, but I knew it was a plan. I figured that because I was back at my apartment and actually holding down a job, they needed a way to keep tabs on me.

But I knew tonight would be different. Tonight I would, against better judgment, tell my parents I was back with Rory. I don't know why I'd decided to keep it from them this past week- fear, spite, maybe the shear desire to have a personal life?

Whatever it was, I had decided not to tell them until the opportunity presented itself, and I decided this dinner was a better time than any.

I dressed and Rory sat on the couch. I tied my tie watching her reading her book, she had an almost sad expression on her face. And I felt like I'd caused it. I felt like for the past week I'd been distancing myself from her, just because she had made me go to AA.

I sat next to her, "I'm trying to make this thing work." Even though I knew I was resisting as hard as I could, will still giving in.

She looked up at me.

"I want to do this AA thing, because you want me to…and I want to make us work this time." Which was true, except for actually wanting to go through with the AA.

"I know." She slightly smiled, though I could tell something was still bothering her. I hugged her, and resumed tying my tie.

"Well, I'll be back around…nine…nine-thirty…you'll be here?"

"Yeah…I have the next to last rally tomorrow…I think I'm leaving at eight, but I'll be here."

"Okay…well, I guess I can stall no longer…see you when I get back." I told her, opening the door and grabbing my jacket.

"Bye." She replied, not even looking up from her book.

Entering the house, I hung up my jacket, making my way towards the sitting room.

"Honestly, it was larger than the rest of her face…its good she had it done."

"You're so judgmental, mother."

"Well, who else is going to judge her? Her mother is a cracked up whore, and her father is off God knows where with his new family…"

"Poor girl."

"Oh, she's no girl…she's almost thirty. And hopefully she came to her senses and _that's_ why she had it done…ugliest…Oh, Logan…you're here." My mother rose from her seat on the sofa to hug me, followed by Honor.

"Hey, brother." She said hugging me.

"Honor…what're you doing here?"

"I was invited…thank you very much."

"I just wasn't expecting it, that's all." I said, giving my mother a look.

"Oh calm down, Logan…your father is at the office and I thought it'd be nice to have your sister come."

I sat on the sofa across from Honor and my mother.

"Well, this is nice." Honor remarked.

"What is, dear?"

"Oh, just us…here…together."

"Yes…well who wants drinks? Honor?"

"Martini."

"Okay," she said going to the wet bar, "and Logan…ginger ale?"

"Oh…uh, yeah." I had briefly forgotten my parents knew about AA…which they thought was their influence, and which also meant I wouldn't get the chance to numb myself with scotch during these painful dinners.

"There you are." She said handing me my drink, and sitting back on the sofa. "So, how are things?"

"Things…uh…things are good…" I set my drink down, and looked back up at Honor…who was grinning from ear-to-ear at me.

"Well that's good, Logan…how's work?" She inquired next.

"Work is…work…" I mouthed "what" to Honor when my mother wasn't looking and she replied by grinning even more.

"So, Logan, what's _new_?"

"Nothing…Honor, what's _new_ with you?"

"Oh, nothing…"

My mother sighed, "Would you excuse me, I told that stupid excuse of a cook to have dinner ready at seven…exactly seven…it is now seven-ten…idiots…" She got up to go to the kitchen and Honor quickly came to the sofa I sat on.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you're back with Rory!"

"What- how do you know?"

"Logan…you and Rory go out in public. People see, people talk, and people told me."

"Okay…"

"So…what happened?"

"Well, we just talked and she-"

"Well, apparently Victor burnt dessert, so-" She stopped, and looked at us. "Look at you two, sitting together." She smiled. "Anyway, dinner is ready now, if you'll come to the dining room."

I gave Honor a warning look and followed my mother to the table.

"So…new table?" I noticed the new, dark wood table.

"Yes, came last week, from Italy."

"Its nice…"

"Thank you," she said, taking her seat and folding her napkin in her lap. "I'm sure we'd be able to eat when we sit down if we had decent help who knew what time to serve dinner." She said, loudly and in the direction of the kitchen. "I guess I should go check again." She said, irately, getting up and going into the kitchen.

"When are you going to tell her?"

"When…she's not yelling at the help…"

"Logan…"

"Look, you haven't been here for the past-" I stopped as there was a loud bang from the kitchen, I dropped my voice, "you haven't been here for the past months…I can't just tell her, she won't be happy, she'll probably throw something, and this night won't end well."

"You don't know that."

"She never liked Rory…she didn't think she was good enough. You remember the whole fiasco the night she came over, I really don't want to have to deal with a repeat."

"Yes, but things have changed since then."

"Also giving mother more time to hate Rory."

"She doesn't hate her."

I gave her a look that suggested she was being naïve.

"Okay…but my point is you have to tell her, and the sooner the better…" she trailed off as Shira re-entered the room.

"Sooner the better, what?"

"Uh, the sooner we eat, the better." She laughed, quickly lying.

"Well, Victor is having it sent out in five minutes apparently…so what'd did I miss?" She sat back down in her seat.

Honor gave me a look.

"Mom…I have something to say…"

The maids finally brought out the salads.

"Well say it."

I nervously looked to Honor, who pushed me to go ahead. "Rory…" Her head snapped up, "and I are back together…" She lowered her head and began picking at her lettuce, eating a few pieces. "Mom?"

"What, honey?"

"I said Rory and I are back together…"

"I know; my ears are fine, thank you." She continued picking at her salad.

"Don't you want to comment on that, mom?" Honor asked.

"I prefer not to."

"Okay…" Honor traced off, picking at her own salad.

"So, how's Dad?" I asked after three minutes of everyone picking at their salads.

"Fine." Came my mother's reply.

I gave Honor an "I told you so" look, and she mouthed sorry and shrugged.

"I just don't see why you have to do this, Logan." My mother said putting down her fork. Apparently the silence was too much for her.

"Because I want to."

"Oh, you don't know what you want! You're just a boy."

"I'm twenty-five."

"That doesn't mean you know what you want."

"I love Rory, despite what this family thinks…she's good for me-"

"She broke your heart!"

"Yeah, that was in the past."

"So you're just forgiving this girl?"

"Yes, I am…and I think I'll go now. Have a nice dinner." I rose from the table, grabbed my jacket on the way out, and went to my car. I dialed Rory's phone.

"Hey…"

"Hey, so have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

"Well, you want to go somewhere?"

"Yeah, sure…but what about your dinner?"

"I'll explain when I see you…where do you want to go?"

"Well, actually…I thought we could eat in tonight…maybe watch some movies…"

"Yeah, sounds good…I'll see you in a couple of minutes." I hung up the phone and pulled out of my parent's driveway.

"Oh my God these are good egg rolls." I laughed at her enthusiasm as we ate Chinese on my couch, watching _Good Fellas_.

"Well, Joe's Chinese has always had exceptional egg rolls."

"I know, and the name alone just amazes me. I mean usually anything with the name "Joe's" is going to suck, especially if its linked with something foreign…but no! These egg rolls are amazing…"

"I figured you'd like them." I grinned, "So what's on the agenda tomorrow?"

"The rally…"

"Ah, yes, the rally…"

"Then I have to write the article about the rally…and that's probably going to take up all my free time."

"What a shame…"

"Why?"

"I just thought we'd do something tomorrow, but you obviously have more important things," I teased.

"So do you."

"I do?"

"You have AA tomorrow."

"Oh…yeah…I forgot."

"But we can do something the next day."

"Yeah."

"So, you never did tell me about dinner?"

"Oh, well…I told my mother about you, after Honor persuaded me…and she didn't take its so well."

"I didn't really expect her to…"

"Neither did I, so I just left…I didn't feel like putting up with her."

"Aw, poor Honor, she was left with the aftermath."

"She's a big girl, she can take it."

"Even the biggest of girls can't take Shira Huntzberger."

"Yeah…" I exhaled, deciding I should bring something else up. "Look, Rory-"

Her phone started to ring, cutting me off; she answered it, forgetting that I was talking to her.

"Hey." There was a long pause and a wide smiled grew on her face. "That's great! When?" She continued smiling and listening. "The twentieth? That soon…well I know." The person on the other end, who I could clearly hear, kept rambling and finally stopped, probably to take a breath. "Oh that…just the TV, Logan and I are watching _Good Fellas_…yeah, quit busting balls…but I'll talk to you later, okay? Alright, bye mom."

"So what was that about?"

"My mom and Luke are engaged."

"Again?"

"Yeah, they're apparently getting married September twentieth, at the gazebo in Stars Hollow."

"That soon?"

"Yeah…well I mean I think they've waited long enough…"

"Yeah…" I said, my arm around her, staring absently at the floor, remembering where I was about to bring the conversation before her mom called.

"Logan?"

"Huh?" I said, still staring.

"Is something wrong?"

I tore my gaze from the floor, and turned to look at her…considering what to say.

"No, nothing's wrong." I decided against bringing the subject up.

"Okay…well, I've got to get up early, so I think I'll go to bed."

"Alright," I kissed her, "I'll be in, in a minute."

She left the room, and I went back to thinking. I had considered telling her that I wasn't doing the AA thing anymore…that, even though she demanded it of me, I was through. I believed it to be unnecessary, and a waste of time.

I got up, and went to bed, deciding I'd keep that a secret.

Okay…I've updated! Woo hoo. But I decided I'm starting a new fic, and I'll try to keep updating as…much as I can.


	11. See Me Crumble and Fall On My Face

The temptation was like a poison coursing through my veins. I awoke to an empty apartment, completely alone, excluding the bottle of Absolute I had hidden from Rory. The temptation to pour a glass, let alone a shot, felt like cheating. Not just on AA, but also on Rory…she was highly opposed to me ever thinking of a drink again…and here I was beginning to gorge myself on alcohol.

I slowly began to drain the bottle. I had decided there was no use for a glass; it would only be more evidence of my crime. And then in the midst of my guilty affair, came a knock at my door.

"Who is it?" I yelled to the door, in a panic. Could it be Rory? She was not supposed to be home yet, for hours. I stood frozen, waiting for some spoken word from my caller. However I only received more impatient knocking. "Jesus, hold on!" I rose slowly, and unsteadily from the spot on the floor where I had planted myself after I had drank most of the liquor. I crossed the apartment in a nervous, drunken haze, silently praying that when I opened the door I wouldn't see Rory's face.

"Logan!" Instead it was the one man I would never want to see me in this state…and he was as red-faced as ever.

"Dad!" I said in good spirits compared to his most displeased tone of voice.

"Oh this is rich…" He trailed off. Looking around my apartment in disgust.

"No, we're rich." I grinned at Mitchum.

"What happened to AA, Logan?" He said very aggressively, taking a tense stance.

"I discovered it's not for me…who'd have thought?" I chuckled as I plopped myself down on the sofa.

"You know what else I've discovered isn't for you, Logan? Showing up to work at seven in the morning today."

"Work…" I said rather confused.

"Yes, Logan. Work. The job you had been comfortably holding down at Daily Derby. Ring a bell?"

"Oh yeah…with Doyle…no Darin!"

"Yes, and Darin was the one who called to inform me of your slip up this morning! It seems I wasn't the only one waiting for you to fail." His anger seemed to be at a boiling point now, which evoked similar emotions from me.

"Well bravo, father." I said getting to my feet sneering at the man before me. "It must be nice to know that you aren't the only who expects the absolute worst from…who expects me to fail at any given opportunity I have to prove myself."

"Oh grow up, Logan. Stop being a sniveling little self-loathing brat and start accepting responsibility for your actions!" He yelled.

It was at the moment my rage was uncontrollable. I had been living by his rules, his standards, and his ridiculous expectations for so long that I was fed up with it. So I punched my father, square in the face. I watched him as he staggered backward, grabbing at my kitchen counter, struggling to find balance, and I quickly grabbed my jacket, opened the door to the apartment and left.

I really needed to clear my head at this point. In a matter of one morning I had gone back on months of progress with my alcoholism and assaulted my father. I climbed the roof stairs, two at a time. In all the commotion back at my apartment I had not forgotten to stow away my bottle of vodka in my jacket. And upon opening the door to the roof, I uncapped the bottle again, and began to drink. I figured there was nothing I could do at this point to change anything. I had gone way too far this time and the only thing I could do was dig my grave a little deeper.

I sat upon the ledge of the roof, feet dangling done to the streets below. I polished of my bottle of liquor and tossed down to the streets below. I leaned to watch the bottle smash onto the sidewalk and noticed flashing lights on the sidewalk…and then not to my surprise, noticed a tall menacing figure giving a report to the police.

And there was the topping to my wonderful day.

My father had spent most of my teenage years trying to keep me out of jail, bail me out of prison, fix my tickets, bribe the judges…and now this? I could only guess I had finally crossed the line, that I had gone one-too-many screw-ups far.

And maybe they would have never noticed me perched on the roof. Maybe I could have watched Mitchum red-faced and shouting to the officers for a good hour or so…unless I hadn't stupidly tossed the glass bottle onto the streets… which made a remarkably loud shattering, noise. And which led to the police and my father staring up at me.

And now I felt nothing…there was nothing at all I could do at this point to keep the police from rushing up to the roof, busting open the door, slamming me down to the roof floor and cuffing me, and watching as my father smirked, practically laughed, as the car pulled away from the sidewalk while I sat detained in the back.


End file.
